Welcome to my labor of Pydia love. The story that grew so much that it is now part one of it's own 'verse. So welcome to part one of Seasons-verse, and I hope you enjoy.

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He sat in her half-filled tub and watched her shave.

Lydia's pretty sure she should find something creepy about having a forty something year-old man in her bathroom while she was in her underwear, but creepy was relative and on the whole this was harmless. In about an hour she'd head over to Allison's to talk clothes; just because Allison was being a bitch of a best friend didn't mean Lydia was going to be too. But for now there was just her and him.

Peter smiled, "you're much more forgiving than I would be my Moon."

She froze mid-stroke. "I am not your anything."

He went from cross-legged to on his knees in the blink of an eye, but didn't move any closer. "Ah, but your birthday brings a full moon with it tonight." Worm moon. "And I am nothing if not helpless to it's powers."

His smile turned warm and it did funny things to her insides. Things got even funnier when his eyes went electric-werewolf-red. Suddenly he was far too close and she brandished her razor as if it could do real harm. "Lydia, please."

She stared at him, dragging out the moment. When he looked like he was about to jump her regardless, she answered: "no."

He snarled, fangs and eyes flashing, but slumped back. Even if it was only an illusion, at least she has control over what happens between them in that respect. She continued shaving as if nothing happened. When she finished she swished the razor through the water to clean it off before putting it away. She has to reach a little to grab her bottle of lotion, but it was worth it.

Lydia only managed to pop open the cap before Peter took it from her, she didn't protest. He moved again, this time so that she could prop her feet against his shoulders. Taking her left foot in his hands he began to give her a very through foot massage.

She tried, and failed, to bite back a moan as his slightly calloused fingers dug into her arch. He chuckled and she scowled.

With broad, circular strokes he moved up her foot and onto her calf. Her fingers scrambled for purchase as his pressed deeper.

She gave a small cry of dismay when he stopped at her knee, though it turned into a happy sigh when he moved to her other foot. When he reached that knee he stopped again, but kept his hands there, gently stroking her skin. "It's your birthday today."

Lydia raised an eyebrow, "really? I hadn't noticed."

"Would you like a present?"

She bit back her automatic response of 'yes'; she was not Stiles, she would think her answers through damn it. "What kind of present?"

"What would you like?"

Lydia heard about a million dark promises in that question, and Peter's eyes were red again. She straightened as best she could, folded her hands primly on her lap, and gave a saccharine-sweet smile. "For you to leave me alone."

Peter laughed. Then took her completely by surprise by burying his nose in the crook of her knee. She could practically feel his voice in her bones when he spoke again. "Would you like to why my nephew fears you?"

It took her a moment to realize he was talking about Derek, who attracted social outcasts like flies to honey; must be the jacket and car. "He doesn't even know me."

She could feel Peter's lips curve in a smile. "And yet he tried to have you killed."

Fear and panic course through her veins as she cowers in the bathroom, hating herself for being so weak. "Why?"

He turned his face to meet her eyes. "Why does he fear you?"

She nodded, then added: "why weren't you there?"

Between one moment and the next the distance between them shrank. With her sitting and him between her legs their height difference wasn't as bad and she only had to tilt her head a little to meet his eyes. "You were still terrified of me, my being there would have hindered more than helped." His hand reached up to rest on her cheek. "I am sorry for that though."

The silence that fell between them in that moment was perfect.

"But as for the 'why' of fearing you in the first place, it wasn't just because he thought you were the Kanima. It also had to do with your scent."

Lydia frowned. "My scent?"

Peter nodded, then buried his face in her neck. She could feel the rush of air against her nape as he inhaled. "Lydia, my dear, to be perfectly frank you smell of aconitum. Getting used to your scent is dangerous; how do I know it's you I smell and not some hunter trying to kill me?"

She didn't know how to answer that.

Once again silence fell between them. This time neither felt the need to break it. She watched as he picked up her lotion bottle and slathered some between his hands. This time she barely felt those hands as they slid up her legs.

When he finished he stepped out of the tub, clothes drying as he did so. He offered her a hand, she refused and climbed out on her own, brushing past him to get to her room.

It was time to pretend she was normal and stable again.